The Probelms of being Wicked
by KennKirk
Summary: Alfred knew he was being foolish, but that just who he was. A young bigwig politician running around in the Soviet Union during the height of the Cold War. Both nations so tense and on guard that the leaders probably need like three massages a day. But you know, what's wrong with gallivanting off into the heart of Russia with another business man? HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

Normal – Russian

_Italics- English_

Alfred knew he was being foolish, but that just who he was. A young bigwig politician running around in the Soviet Union during the height of the Cold War. Both nations so tense and on guard that the leaders probably need like three massages a day.

But you know, what's wrong with gallivanting off into the heart of Russia with another business man, looking to destroy the secret police and the other stuff going on behind the iron curtain?

Alfred was a young prodigy of the CSI, who had been working extensively getting into a higher position with some political sway in the government. But due to his real area, he was mostly unknown. His pal Arthur, the insane bastard that actually bought all the tickets and purchased a traveling visa, making this entire thing possible, was a business man like no bodies business.

Ha-ha pun. No but seriously, when Alfred had received no funding from the government for his little excursion into Russia to go spy on some commies, he had phone Arthur up for some back up. Within 20 minutes Arthur called back and asked "the government will like to know how much money you will be needing for this trip"

But that was Arthur, skinny and puny (well Alfred thought so because he was around 6 foot himself, in reality Arthur was really only about 5 foot 10) and very easy to underestimate.

Unfortunately for Alfred, who claimed that incidents like these where Arthur show the side of himself that had stuck him in prison for the five years of his adolescents, as the Hero. Incidents like these where the ones where Alfred underestimated just how much Vodka Arthur could consume.

So here Alfred was, in the heart of Russia, in the cooling autumn night. Sitting on a dingy train with Arthur trying to sign some sort of Beatles song. Groaning Alfred shoved Arthur away from him, disgusted at the odor of alcohol wafting off of the English man in his drunken stupor. The train stopped, and what once was an empty carriage, now had a girl with an old man lumbering after her drunk as can be. Alfred glanced over, tripping over his own mind if he could. She was beautiful. Long blonde locks rolled down her shoulder, and her dress, rich navy blue that hung off her of small frame in complementary ways. Alfred then stepped back from mind absorbing her prettiness to notice that the dress its self was cheap low cut, and how ripped her thick tights were, how unclean and matted her hair was, and how gaunt and irritated she looked.

As she sat down the drunk man sat beside her pulling her into his lap. She shook her head saying something quietly in Russian. But the man did not seem to notice and his palms trailed further up her skirt.

Blushing Alfred looked away, fiddling with his glasses, something her really didn't need but added to the disguise he was trying to pull off. And well, they were reading glasses he was nearsighted, but barely. He glancing through the black window shifting uncomfortably as he could perfectly see the image of what was going on across from him and the ever drunk Arthur. Now she was struggling and he could hazily make out the words.

"I'm not working." "Go away." "Leave me alone."

Having enough Alfred stood up marching over to the struggle. The man looked up stumbling onto this swaying feet, he stood easily a head shorter than Alfred and his leathery skin hauled over his face showing off the sharp bone structure. He began to bark loudly in Russian, Alfred rolled his eyes not bothering to understand what he was saying, as he decked him. The man staggered back grasping his bleeding nose before growling and barking again in Russian. Before Alfred could say anything, a fist caught him hard across his cheek. Growling, Alfred grasped the man's other fist twisting it hard behind his back forcing the drunk man to spin. Then he knocked the man's head against a nearby pole, waiting for the next train stop. When it came he threw the man to the ground leaving him unconscious.

Stepping back to the desolated train, the door swooshed closed behind him and he looked at the girl. She was eyeing him carefully her eyes pricing blue. The colour that whispered ice blue, Russian blue eyes. She had her arms wrapped around her knees with her head resting on it, her thick hair draped over for extra warmth.

Oh, Alfred shifted nervously, she was cold. He stepped up to her peeling off his warm bomber jacket with great reluctance. She just peered up through black lashes, saying nothing, but her eyes working a mile a minute as she contemplated.

She didn't take the jacket either.

"Look here." Alfred said rolling his eyes at the forming head ache that would surface fully in a few minutes, "I don't want your services, and it's a kind deed."

"I don't need help." She snapped, her voice surprisingly low for such a tiny girl

Alfred sighed throwing the coat over top her head, "Look it's free, it's also the middle of November and it's cold. Take the stupid jacket and be grateful."

He marched back over to where Arthur was now fast asleep, his head sinking so low it looked like it should have just snapped off and rolled away. Even from the awkward distance she eyed him carefully, and he stared right back at the prostitute. Finally he had his stop. Struggling he dragged Arthur off the train feeling those piercing eyes bore through his back the entire time.

Now he swore. Left alone in the freezing night it was well past midnight, and he still had no idea where his hotel was. Damn it the drunk should help him.

Slapping Arthur across the face he opened his blurry eyes, "Whanau"

"Where is the hotel stupid?" Alfred tried, at the look of utter confusion he repeated himself in English this time

His brows furrowed as he contemplated life. Arthur then gave a mumble, so incoherent that if Alfred wasn't fluent in Drunk Arthurianese, he would have been in trouble. He stumbled along calling his partner nasty names in every language he knew when he finally stepped into the Hotel lobby and out of the frigid cold. Up the steps in near darkness, because the lights where off and he was half asleep, then stumbled into the room leaving Arthur to sleep on the floor by the entrance, and Alfred collapsed on the bed, dead asleep.

Alfred woke to a low moan. And it wasn't that sexy moan of a person raring to go, it was the moan of a man in utter agony from a nasty hangover.

It made Alfred laugh, lying on the bed warm under the piles of thick down blankets. Glancing over Alfred stared as Arthur rolled slowly on the floor clutching his head, muttering and swearing about the drink of the devil himself. Alfred who was never much of a drinker himself, only really took people like Arthur out, for this very reason. To see them swear and curse the living daylights out of the Devil for tempting them with his tantalizing nectar that burned down their throats as they drank.

And the fact that Arthur had probably the worst hangovers Alfred had ever seen made up for the fact that he was one of the worst drunks.

"Having fun down there?" Alfred smiled stretching in the cool sunlight, it was colder in the room today, and he shivered rubbing his arms and pulling the thick quilt closer to him. Arthur must have been cold, too but Alfred dismissed that. It time Arthur stared gain some responsibility around the spirits.

"I will never drink again." Arthur moaned curled up so his head was hidden inside his jacket, "_It's bloody cold, Alfred pass something warm." _

Laughing Alfred shook his head even though the man couldn't see him, "Good morning to you too lazy but, I had to drag your drunken ass half way across town."

"_Why won't the light shut up?"_

Alfred rolled his eyes leaving his friend in misery on the floor as he marched over to the bathroom, turning on another cold shower. Man these, Russian have got to have amazing tolerance to the cold. An hour later dress and ready to go, with coffee and toast waiting in the dingy kitchen, Arthur was still lying on the floor. Having fallen asleep once more.

"Ok, Artie. How can you sleep on the floor like that?" Alfred asked, fixing his tie as he kicked Arthur's side waking him up, "Yo. How can you sleep on the floor like that?"

"I can bloody well sleep where ever I want."

Alfred rolled his eyes flicking off the lint from his pristine suit, "No idiot; how can you sleep like that? Aren't you sore old man?"

"I am 27 arse hat." Arthur growled

Alfred chuckled, "Yet still single, and still an alcoholic. Come on, we have a meeting today with a big dude remember?"

Arthur stared back completely confused… suddenly he leap to his feet dashing around the flat.

"_You utter GIT_! How could you let me drink yesterday when we are meeting Mr. Braginski himself TODAY?"

"Slipped my mind." Alfred mused, sipping his coffee, enjoying the bitter flavor and how it shocked his sense awake, "Hey have you seen our papers? We were going over them last night before you got stuck in a pub. Where did you put them?"

"I gave them to you remember, it your jacket." Arthur shouted from the bathroom a tooth brush in his mouth and his other hand straightening out his hair, "I was going drinking, that means getting bloody smashed."

"Artie, we are Russian. We do not get bloody smashed." Alfred snorted, laughing as Arthur flipped him the bird.

"I put it in your brown leather jacket. Where is it?"

Alfred looked around the disarray of cloths that he and Arthur had somehow managed at accumulate through the two weeks they had been here. The he froze recalling exactly what had happened last night.

"_Oh shhhaving cream_"

Arthur looked out of the bath room his eyes still swollen and red, his hair still greasy and dirty, and his jaw completely covered with shaving cream.

"What?" he snarled

Alfred smiled, his best politician smile that won over the hearts of so many, maybe except his brother and Arthur.

"Don't give your- I majorly f' ed up but I will hide it with my charming good looks- smile. What did you do?" Arthur growled stepping closer to Alfred.

"Well you were plastered and there was this girl, and she was cold so I kind of…"

"You didn't…" His jaw dropped, oh the anger in Arthur's eyes was almost enough to make Alfred jump on the next plane to America; if only that was possible now.

"I gave it to this girl on the train." Alfred grinned feebly wishing Arthur would notice how heroic that originally was.

"_You complete and utter… THOSE WHERE OUR VISAS LICENCES, AND EVERYTHING WE NEED TO NOT BE SHOT OR ARRESTED!" _

Alfred flinched, man for a hung over guy he could still really yell.

"_YOU IDIOT!" _Yep, yep that was true in this case. Arthur then proceeded to swear in every language he knew, which happened to be quite a few, with every insult he knew, which nearly exceeded all the words in the English language. And Alfred felt bad for the first thirty seconds but then grew bored and went to go make more coffee.

Which only made Arthur yell louder, now switching to Portuguese swears. Alfred, his ears ringing nearly turned around and decked the smaller man; luckily he didn't, while he would win especially since Arthur was still inebriated he couldn't afford to risk stupid moves. Not when there was a big reality that they were posing as tourists, and hanging around visiting big politicians because of their social standing as rich business owners looking to set up a franchise in Russia. Not as political spies both trained in the army, and well versed in everything secret or hidden within the American government itself.

But now the papers where gone, they might have to rethink the tourist thingy.

"Arthur. Stop yelling you're going to give yourself a heart attack." Alfred interrupted calmly, his panic shutting down his regular enthusiasm forcing him into this calm state "We can either run now. Or play it out, forage a few documents and look for the girl. She was a prostitute, blonde, pretty, smaller about 5 foot 5. Looked to be very Russian, with the jaw and everything."

Arthur gave Alfred a ridiculous look, but he could tell that Arthur agreed with everything, "Yes because there is only about 2 million women half a million which are prostitutes Alfred."

"Would you like to run?"

Arthur glared at Alfred sighing he turned back to finish shaving his face. Running was not an option right now. They still had to meet a few business men, and by God Alfred' boss going to be mad when he finds out Alfred had given his papers to some prostitute he didn't even get the name of. He almost rather face the wrath of some Russians than have to go home and be degraded by his bosses, probably fired because of how they even got here in the first place. Damn Arthur and his shady methods.

Speaking of which the said man walked out of the room, his dress shirt slim and formal with a dark gray vest over top. He grabbed his black trench coat, and gray scarf.

"These Russians need to see the colour wheel." Arthur muttered, before snorting, "Man Francis would throw a fit."

Alfred, just nodded at the one sided joke. He never really met Arthur's other friends, well he knew his girlfriend, or friend that was a girl but they were way to close, and bordering past friends with benefits; Port (well really Jorge María Andréia Cardozo, but they called her Port) But that was about it. They never really discussed much past insulting each other. Hell if Arthur even knew one of Alfred's friends; he probably didn't even know about Alfred's brother.

"Aright let's go." Alfred opened the door stepping out along with Arthur. For a second in the hall ways they walked step for step, and it reminded Alfred of the Super Hero comics he was still obsessed with. And it made him feel epic and cool.

Then he got out side, into the bitter Russian wind. And he was actually cold.

The office building held the eerily resemblance to a tomb stone. It reminded Alfred of his grandfather's grave. Big dark and silence. Even though the people held the usual buzz of life all around them; even though Arthur was still muttering fiercely about how damn cold it was and how his brains where going to freeze to the side's on his skull if they didn't get out of the wind soon. The building seeming blended into the gray sky, and made the entire thing look massive, like the clouds. Swirling and waiting for the moment to snow.

What the building would snow down was a difficult question. Alfred really liked the snow, so it was a disappointing connection. But the building looked like dark storm clouds found only in climate that held both the suffering of winter and the beauty of summer's joys. It looked like it could fit into some of the smaller cities in northern Canada, if it lost about 15 floors. But he would never admit that out loud. But the part that made him laugh was the bright cheery buildings beside the newer lifeless ones. It was ironic and Alfred found himself enjoying the contrast a little more than he probably should. They marched up in through the doors relaxing in under the warm gush of air that enveloped them stinging their cheeks, making them throb under the sudden warmth. Alfred pulled off his glass whipping his nose with his sleeve absentmindedly.

He spotted a young man walking towards them with a small timid gait. Smiling brightly Alfred put his glasses back on trying to give his biggest rosy- cheek smile as possible.

"Hello?" he man asked, he straighten his back as if he had suddenly noticed his slouch, "How many I help you?"

Alfred grinned already pulling off his scarves and mittens. The smaller man, even shorter than Arthur, Alfred noticed in amusement just shifted awkwardly brushing his brown locks back behind his ear.

"American?" The man asked softly, "Your Russian is quite good."

Alfred glanced up, worry flashing across Arthur's face. His partner stepped up to the plate, having a sudden idea.

"Born there yes." Arthur lied easily, "We moved her young. We are citizens though."

The man just stared; and Alfred cleared his throat. Ok so they were lying about their identity, well that was a little confusing but if they were citizen they wouldn't have to show their id, or papers.

"I am Andrey, this is my companion Nikita." Alfred introduced ignored the utter look of annoyance that cross Arthur's face, "We are brothers."

The man nodded still confused, but seemed to settle with the idea after he gave a small smile, "Oh alright then. I am presuming you would like to see Mr. Braginski? Do you have an appointment?"

They didn't actually, and that was probably the only thing saving their skins at the moment.

"No, we are here from a recommendation from a comrade of Mr. Braginski. A certain General…?" Arthur filled in, keeping his chin annoyingly stiff, a habit he does when he can either piss his pants or march through it.

The smaller man nearly jumped out of his skin, "Oh General Timur? Oh I am sorry to keep you dawdling for so long!"

The man seemed beside himself in a sudden flurry of anxiousness. Apparently the General, neither of them had really met but been snooping around long enough to hear that he was the beginning of the Russian Mafia, or the secret Police, seemed to be well known to the poor man.

He dashed over to the ugly wooden desk, crashing into it in is hast. The lamp fell crashing to the floor as it rolled away. Stacks of papers flying off the small wooden frame. As the man wrenched open drawers from the opposite side narrowly missing his chugging computer as it thought carefully about its existence.

"OH I'm sorry!" The man cry a few times before he found what he was looking for, an old voice message thingy. He pressed a button and a deep voice filtered in through the speaker.

"What is it Toris." The voice sounded annoyed, and nasty like the person on the other side was suffering from an equally nasty hang over as Arthur.

"Two men are here to see you sir, General Timur sent them. Andrey and Nikita…" he paused blushed, "What is your last names?"

"Tolstoy." Arthur responded smoothly

The man faltered, and blinked then clicking the voice mover thingy back on, "Andrey and Nikita Tolstoy."

"Tolstoy?" Mr. Braginski asked, he sounded curious as his voice was a little higher and friendlier then where Toris, the man had first called, "bring them up Toris."

He nodded turning back to the two men, blushing he gestured towards the stair case, "Mr. Braginski's office is one the 30th story. I can lead you up there…?"

Flabbergasted Alfred balked, but he nodded weakly.

"We should be fine sir." Alfred said, "It is the whole 30th floor?"

The man snorted, "It is the whole building all 35 stories."

Well for 35 stories the place seemed very dead, like not every many people worked here. Judging from the dirt and dingy yellow lights that flickered from time to time, Alfred had to wonder what a man with the man as revered as Braginski was doing with all the money he seemly owned.

Arthur nodded already opening the door to the poorly light stair well. Alfred turned to follow him but stopped.

"You knew we are foreigners. How can you tell?"

The man laughed bending down to pick up the piles of unsorted paper engulfing his feet, "You had too many scarfs and mittens on. It's not very cold out today. Only -10."

Alfred stared then snorted laughing.

"The other thing is that you smile too much." The man muttered half to himself, "But that is more forgivable, plenty of people still smile."

"Andrey." Arthur snapped already on the next floor.

"Thank you. Coming Nikita!"

Alfred hurried after his partner leaping up the steps three at a time. When he caught up with Arthur they continued their brisk pace.

"Tolstoy huh?" Alfred snorted

"Only name I remember from school." Arthur replied shortly, "Only one that wasn't too big."

"Yes except he was a supporter of the Tsar in 1866, and supressed a bunch of ideas until the Tsar was murdered." Alfred snorted.

"Shut up Andrey." Arthur snorted which sharp accusation in his tone, Alfred rolled his eyes.

Getting the papers for Andrey and Nikita Tolstoy would be easier blending into the situation they were in at the moment. Mr. Braginski was a name that they had come across once or twice in America but had chosen to ignore, since he didn't have much presence. He wasn't in the government and did not appear to have much sway. But here in the Russia? Whole new story.

Everyone knew the name. He owned the majorities of the company, and for the most part seemed to have a very large say in the secret police. There had been rumours that he ran the entire organization; but those where difficult to prove.

Originally the plan was to introduce themselves as tow business men born and raised in America and weasel their way into this operation. But having lost their documents, and since Arthur already probably was contemplating how they could forge citizenships. They were citizens of Russia born and raised in America moved back to Russia. Minor details like how to get that into the government files will come later. Beside that was all Arthur's work. Alfred was here to do the actual information, he was the face of the project. Arthur sorted out the details.

"Nikita, are the documents?"

Alfred looked over to where Arthur was staring off into distance, quickly writing incomprehensible words into a little note book of his. Alfred had stolen it once out of curiosity. It was mostly pictures, and a few words covered in pages of Welsh. Apparently Welsh and was his mother tongue. He had learnt English as a second language at school, but spoke Welsh to his family. Needless to say Alfred couldn't read it.

"Settled" Arthur muttered writing down a few more symbols, he snapped the little black book closed stuffing it in his pocket.

Alfred smirked, excellent. Time for his own charm.

"They think with all that money they would be able to afford elevators." Alfred used as they reached the 20th story, "God, no wonder Russians are in shape. Image climbing this every day?"

"Careful or we might just be." Arthur mused.

"I plan to." Alfred vowed, turning once again as the stupid building spiraled every upwards in dizzying cycle.

Finally they reached Mr. Braginski's office. Opening the solid door they were met with a bright room, filled with a wide view of the skyline of Moscow. Off to one side a wide desk sat with a massive library filled with all sorts of books, and a pleasant ladder to reach to the top of the room. It wasn't a large room, the ceiling was lower than what could have been expected. And the lush red carpet made the room feel wider than it truly was.

Alfred shuffled around, feeling his confidence grow as he inspected the room, careful not to touch but examine. The carpet was a warm red, a library filling one full side of the room, approximately… 4 of Alfred's arm length across. The other side beside the left hand side of the desk was a large bay window, with window seat filled with lush cushions of various shades. Most of them where hand embroidered, an old type of Russian or Ukrainian embroidery that indicated authentic. On the other side, about two of Alfred's arm length was a large picture of sun flowers, and a little cottage soaking in the mid- summer sun. Then there was simply wall, plain boring. Through the warm gray brown colour did try and liven the room up a little.

The desk was large and ordinate, beautiful hand carved and easily worth Alfred's paycheck. Probably about twice as much as the little man at the front, Toris made in his entire life. There was nothing on it, except for a cup filled with cold tea, off to one side an expensive brand of good Vodka, a pen holder and a little ballerina paper weight.

The door off to the right side on the empty wall opened. What should have been a man but Alfred more liked to describe as a giant marched out. He was massive, with the build that spoke broad and muscular.

Now Alfred was not a thin, or short man by any stretch, but the monster that came out of the door, made Alfred feel more like a mosquito than he ever had.

Mr. Braginski, was large, reaching about 6 foot 8. Broad shoulders, and a thick stocky jaw that created a masculine well framed face. He had a large nose, and big dark eyes, that held a strange colour to them. Alfred ignored the eye colour, he was not interested in getting close enough to really see what colour they are. He wasn't wearing a suit but rather a black coat and white scarf embroidered with beautiful red thread. . He pulled off his coat revealing a white dress shirt and a dark red tie.

"Mr. Tolstoy?" Mr. Braginski spoke. Alfred blink, his voice was high. Much higher than whoever answered the recoding message, and much higher than a man this stocky and with that thick a neck and frame should have.

"Andrey Tolstoy." Alfred greeted meeting Mr. Braginski's hand, "I quiet like your office if I may say so myself. Very impressive."

It wasn't a compliment, but rather a statement that really said 'wow you have a lot of money. How did you get it?'

Mr. Braginski nearly crushed Alfred's hand with his bear like grip, "Oh thank you, I must say, you're would be so much more impressive judging by your suit."

Alfred nearly smirked, he noticed after all. Not many politicians did; it was exhilarating the threat of a new prey to haunt and torn apart slowly.

"This is my brother, Nikita Tolstoy." Alfred introduced Arthur came up firmly shaking the bear's hand.

Mr. Braginski smiled, and it cooled the warm room slightly. But Alfred was ready for the chase.

"Why don't you two have a seat? I have a feeling we will have a lot to talk about."

Alfred plopped himself down into the lush leather chair leaning forward, his elbows resting on the arms as his chin rested on his entertained hands.

**If you like this, let me know and I might continue. If not, then the end.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I got some reviews and eventually remembered to post this. **

**Again, I'm not very committed to this story so if you want it to continue tell me or I wont. **

**Also, feel free to offer any suggestions for pairings, cause well I'm too lazy to pick my own pairings. **

Alfred was pretty sure that Mr. Braginski could smell his desperation to stall. They continued making pleasant small talk about the weather, which Mr. Braginski had insisted was quiet lovely, and Arthur very nearly blew their cover with the loud snort. Alfred saved the day by passing Arthur a tissue, pretending that Nikita had a cold.

But really the stalling thing; Mr. Braginski had this look in his eye that just read – if you don't stop stalling now I'm going to call you out on it and it won't be pretty. It was the kind of threat, applied with the sickly sweet smile that made Alfred's toes curl. But then again Mr. Braginski made everyone a little skittish. Arthur spent the entire time like someone had replaced his spine with a pole. Not to mention he did not even move his head, looking around the room in robotic jerks and constant swerving of his eyes. If Alfred wasn't about to wet himself he probably would of laughed at how tense his partner was.

"Well now Mr. Tolstoy" Mr. Braginski smiled leaning back as his folded his gloved hands, "I do believe you came here for more that idle talk. I did not have information that you had visited General Timur, I would be pleased to know why my partner had no contacted me with such information."

Alfred smiled, and faltered, well darn gosh it all- expect he used much more mature wording in his mind. They were business men, what did they have to sell that Mr. Braginski would open up to them, and included the secret police, or the mafia branch of the secret police.

"General Timur was silent because," Alfred cleared his throat to stall, "because, we asked him to."

Mr. Braginski lifted a pale eyebrow sifting his thick square jaw around as if he was chewing his cheek. He stopped the motion quickly leaning back dropping his hands to the table.

"Is that so?" he chuckled, "Nothing is a secret to me men. Though not many people find the name General Timur, so I am impressed. Now quit stall Mr. Tolstoy, why are you here?"

"We have a proposition for you." Alfred began tasting each word as his mind raced at hundred miles per minute, "We would like you cooperation, of the more… shall we say, hushed affairs?"

Mr. Braginski's smiled widened, "I am following."

Crap they needed something, a person…. Umm a man? Murder? No, they would have America on their tails, but they weren't … no they had a Dual citizenship as Andrey and Nikita Tolstoy. State secretes, what do these commies what? Dam, he should have a plan. Ok, no panicking and just give your … got it.  
" A position in the government."

Mr. Braginski actually growled, and Alfred just about threw himself out of the window. Mr. Braginski now about twice as threatening as before snarled, "No."

Ok, ok really bad idea, actually it was super stupid. Arthur kicked the back of Alfred's chair, not helping much. Alfred nodded rubbing his chin, man he needed a shave. No focus, he was ALFRED F. JONES. The man who got his name on a shiny plaque back in the CSI to appear important.

"I'm not stating a position as President, but rather a member of the board, Mr. Braginski." Alfred replied smooth, he could still hear Arthur seething behind him; "I could make it worth your while."

Mr. Braginski, with the likeness of a bear continued to fulminate; but, Alfred had already one this battle. Leaning back he crossed his arms confidently smirking up at those dark eyes.

"Nikita." Feeling Arthur's gaze Alfred pressed on, "Nikita, it is now or never."

Arthur grimaced as he dug through his deep pocket pulling out items at random. Alfred watched when his eyes caught onto a large flash drive, diving for it he snatched it out of Arthurs' grasp. The man squawked his face flushing with annoyance, before he rolled his eyes setting about shoving the items back into his pockets.

Grinning Alfred waved the flash drive under Mr. Braginski's aquiline nose.

"Do you know what this is Mr. Braginski?" Alfred cooed, his face light up in a taunting smirk. The man grumbled his heavy brow set in deep frown.

"No."

Well neither did Alfred truthfully. "This is a tracking device for the USA Government. It is programing to all the battle submarines and plans hidden away in those computers I know you need Mr. Braginski."

Mr. Braginski shook his head, Alfred's smile faltered not expecting the rejection.

"I do not deal with the army Mr. Tolstoy."

Alfred made a show about handing it back to Arthur, as he was just about to press it back to Arthur's palm, Alfred sighed, "Well that is a shame; after all tracking submarines is not the only tracking one can do."

"Wait."

Alfred nearly laughed, caught like a fish on a line Mr. Braginski now looked troubled as if dealing with some deep inner morals. The man nodded slowly.

"Perhaps something can be arranged." Alfred did not laugh, or smile thought he was sorely tempted to.

"Arranged? What sort of proposition do you have in mind?"

Mr. Braginski's troubled looked returned before he seemed to shake it off like dust, "I could aid you in this, but I will need the information first."

Alfred laughed now mirthlessly he shook his head, "You and me are one of the same, Mr. Braginski. We both understand that you aid me and I will give you the information you need to hunt down those rebellious dogs. Now I believe we are done here?"

Alfred stood up in sync with Mr. Braginski, he held a nasty grin of his face oozing with disgust. Very formally he extended his hand, Alfred shook, and they simultaneously whipped their palm on their pant legs.

"Come Nikita." Alfred ordered he stuffed the flash drive deep into the inner pocket of his jacket zipping it up safely. Arthur stood extending his hand to shake, they stood there for a slit second size the other up.

Arthur back seemed to nearly break from the ridge posture he had and he marched over closer to a soldier than a politician.

"Till we meet again comrade." Mr. Braginski blade as the duo walked out into the stair well staring the dizzying climb down to the floor.

"Government." Commented Arthur.

Alfred nodded, "It serves our purposes Nikita."

Arthur let out a little noise of understanding, Alfred grinned pulling out his mittens and scarf. He slowly put them on as his legs pumped down the concrete steps. They made it down in record time the both of them flying down from the office of Mr. Braginski.

He was … something else. Terrifying, but to admit that even in Alfred's mind would only weaken his mental state and place the foreboding Russian on a platform making it mentally harder to challenge the large beast. The man was impressive in size, and mentally as well. He and Alfred could read between the lines well enough to be demanding enemies. The type of enemy that keeps one constantly on their toes, always on the lookout for the little blade to cut one of those little toes away.

A brilliant challenge, and one that could make Alfred something special back at home. Of course with a little exaggeration Alfred could be seen as a hero, well above his peers and he could strike out big. Oh by God did he plan to.

Stepping out into the lonely lobby where the little man,… whatever his name was, still shuffling around his face buried deep into a large pile of papers. The papers seemed to engulf the poor man like it was trying to drown him in paper work. Alfred could relate, half the reason he demanded to come to Russia was to swim away from all the paper work.

Clearing his throat the brown head bobbed up from a sea of white and black. A thin nervous smile twitched on his lips revealing a crooked arrangement of teeth. He clattered to his feet again knocking over a massive pile of papers. Alfred snorted laughing, the man jumped down sweeping all the papers up, he scooped up quickly bumping into his desk as another pile swept down to the floor.

"They seem to like it on the floor." Alfred commented amused at the clumsy display, "You should leave them there since they are so eager."

The man did not find such humour in Alfred's words and he merely dropped the rest of his pile onto the cluttered desk, "Are you here to create another appointment with Mr. Braginski?"

Nodding Alfred walked over fingering the documents like he owned the place, time to pee in Mr. Mr. Braginski's territory a little.

"Oh please don't." the man sighed, but he seemed in no mood to argue, "These papers are in order believe it or not."

"I'll go with not." Alfred replied smoothly, picking them up at random to scan them over. Out the corner of his eyes he spotted Arthur doing the same to some of the papers on the floor. The man bent down and discreetly folded them inside his large pockets.

The secretary was tripping over himself trying to slap Alfred's hands away, he did not notice the theft from Alfred's companion.

"Please, look these are not important documents. Alright whatever, umm how about next Saturday? I can schedule you in for… oh no um Thursday at 9:00 am."

Alfred smiled brilliantly as he folded a paper setting it down beside the man's hands, "Brilliant. Nikita?"

"It works for us." Arthur replied smoothly his smile effortless on his face like Alfred's.

Alfred smiled, and feeling a little bad for the man he dug into his pockets pulling out a few rubles form the man's trouble.

"Thank you." Alfred grinned, the man speechless snatched the money out of Alfred's palm like a starved pigeon. He ducked his head and muttered a thick string of words that were not Russian. Lifting his head he stood up still speaking quickly in the foreign tongue he started to lead them to the door. At the door he bowed low dashing back to his desk, toppling everything off expect the poor computer that tittered dangerously. His hands fumbled around a big black phone and he was busy dialing when the clod windy air snapped Alfred from his inspection.

Now in the windy streets he nearly toppled to his knees in relief. He had no idea how tense he was.

Arthur turned heading distinctly away from there flat.

"Where are you going?' Alfred called hurrying to catch up.

"I need a drink, and a strong one too. Then I have a few calls to make before Thursday."

"Should I come with you?"

"Sure if you want to pay for my drinks."

"No."

"Then go home."

"Niki, that's boring." Alfred whined, "And it's cold, why would you ever want to go drinking on a terrible evening like this? It's only, what, 18:23?"

Arthur shook his head like a wizened old man, an action Alfred absolutely loathed, "One as young as your self will never understand the beautiful of rum burning down the back of your throat. Or the jolt from Scotch, Angles' Piss."

Wrinkling his nose Alfred grimaced, "What?"

"_Scotch is Angles' Piss, it's the best way to describe it._" Arthur snorted.

Alfred shuttered, it sounded horrible, he had had some stronger wines before and they had all tasted mostly bitter, "Arthur I am leaving you behind if you get drunk."

Arthur snorted, "You still need me."

Alfred laughed but did not dare to respond. He didn't actually, with that flash drive of whatever the hell it had on it, Alfred could pretty much get away with anything. But Arthur did not need to know that, plus he was getting them citizenships. And explaining why Alfred had let one of his closest partners drown in his own vomit would be a little harder to explain hero or not when he came home.

Not that Alfred really wanted to kill the dude, Arthur was a really good partner; the best Alfred had worked with. Just his drink bordered on obsessive; and more often than not, Arthur would skip a few meals just so he had more to drink. While Alfred was pretty patience with drunks and he though hangovers where hysterical, the drink was not really normal and it worried him.

"Three drinks Niki" Alfred commented, Arthur shot his a look but shrugged.

"Fair, we still have to get some supper."

"No I mean it. Three drinks to unwind, and that's it for the night." Arthur opened his mouth to argue, "Nikita, I will not have you getting alcohol poisoning in the middle of this."

He growled grumpily stormed a head like a child. Alfred would not be swayed, Arthur was older; but, in the persuasion of the Devil's nectar, Alfred would always be more mature. The bar was warm, and it almost shook of the perpetual cold that had sunk deep into Alfred's bones. Quickly Arthur scampered off blaring his orders for a full bottle of anything strong. He was met with a couple good cheers from the drunk Russians encouraged by yet another heavy drinker in the area. Not that they had to look very hard, even the women drank more than Alfred had ever in his life.

Utterly bored and seeing that he was defiantly going to lose the argument about how much Arthur drank, Alfred placed himself in a lonely comer counting bottle behind the bartender. Alfred had nearly resolved into putting his "I can sleep anywhere" ability into good use when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his shoulder.

"Hello there handsome." He turned staring at thick eye lashes fluttering against the stone white skin. Long blonde hair polling and draping off of her shoulders.

Alfred grinned, eyeing the woman in front of him. She was beautiful, a hunk of body that proclaimed Woman to the world three times over. Or in other words, her breast only seemed to grow bigger the more Alfred looked. She sat down brushing her long thick hair back, sticking her thick square, but amazingly seductive jaw out. She leant forward pressing her chest up against the table offering a little eyeful.

"Comrade." She said again, Alfred tore his eyes away from admiring her body. She grinned her hands tousling his hair, "Have a drink?"

"No thanks."

She looked startled, almost put off by the rebuttal. Recovering quickly she shifted closer, nearly straddling his lap as she leant forward.

"No matter, no matter." She grinned, "You buy me drink da?"

Yeah, well Alfred just leap up and stole the bottle from Arthurs' fingers dashing back to the women sitting cross legged so her dress had just begun to inch up her calves. Plopping down in the seat, the women snatched the vodka from his figure pulling out the cork with her teeth. She took one large swing not even flinching as it burned down her throat. She battled her eyes, whipping carefully around the bright pink lipstick she wore defining her full lips.

"Thank you."

Alfred opening his mouth, then closed it… and before he knew it he was blabbering like a fish. Gaping uselessly as the women beside him laughed and drank some more. She rolled her eyes, and Alfred brought out all of his smooth moves to the floor. Damn it, he could do this.

"You come here often?" Alfred mused inching closer while keeping his cool

The Woman smiled, "There are enough men who give out their pockets if they are drunk enough."

Alfred chuckled, "Someone has to go home sober."

She grinned pulling on Alfred's black scarf, she brought his face closer her breath coated with the liquor "Or not go home at all."

"My wife might complain"

"To hell with your wife." She sneered, "I won't be around long enough for her to care."

Alfred grinned closing the distance, hell, if Arthur got to have fun then Alfred should too. Dragging her onto his lap he make quick work of getting as much of her lipstick smeared over his own lips.

Suddenly Arthur barreled into Alfred, knocking the Woman away from their enjoyment. Alfred growled shoving Arthur away. When Arthur didn't stumble back or break out into drunken rambling, Alfred froze.

"Andrey, we are leaving."

Alfred growled, now put out, "Why."

"Because I am older and I say so. Get your shit and let's go." Arthur snapped giving a nasty look at the Women, she smirked as if knowing exactly what Arthur was doing.

Alfred stood up towering over Arthur. He remained defiant, shoving Alfred towards the door, "You have everything? Good get the hell out."

Before Alfred could protest the Woman waltzed up pecking Alfred on the cheek. With her heels, about four inch she was just a little shorter than Alfred, the same height as Arthur, "Oh some other time. Though you do own me fifteen rubles."

Begrudgingly Alfred handled over the money storming to the door. Glaring Arthur started after Alfred, she stopped his whispering something into his ear. Arthur snorted, then growled something right back before she pecked him on the lips winking winsomely at the duo.

The bitter wind was not welcomed in Alfred's books. And sharing it with Arthur just soured the mood.

"I hate you."

"You come that close to being robbed and you hate me?" Arthur mocked, "I am hurt. I even listened to you and only had four shots."

"So much for self-restraint." Alfred cursed, "I see the bottle under your arm."

"Three, I managed to steal one from some bastard." Arthur stated proudly grinned at the lumped under his coat that blended surprisingly well.

"What do you mean robbed?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, and laughed coldly, "So ignorant."

"_And such a bowl of shaving cream."_ Alfred growled back, "You sure you're not jealous."

Arthur snorted, "You wish."

Alfred laughed, his sour mood lifting slightly. They wandered along the dark streets of Moscow the wind tearing thought their coats as they huddled in on themselves for warmth. The yellow streetlights glinting off the cobble stones of the Moscow streets, nearly empty in the frigid winter evening.

Natasha sat staring at the large brown jacket. Having riffled through the pockets she laid them out spread around. A lighter, a pack of cigarettes, some papers written in a foreign language- English, or one of the western languages she guessed. There was also a bag of candies, a mix of licorice, chocolate and jelly beans, a package of gum, multiple pens, old used tissues. No wallet, or any identification which could have been handy.

She had spent the day crouched their trying to figure out how to wash the coat. Finally she had given up fretting about if it could be washed with water and she grabbed a bat beating out the dust. The door creaked open as a smaller man walked in, his hair limp and clinging to his sweaty forehead. He carried a large bag filled with spare amount of food, but mostly stuffed full of paper. Throwing off his long abused coat he howled into the silences.

"Bad day?" Natasha asked not looking up at her roommate.

The man groaned running a hand through his long brown locks, he rubbed his wrinkled forehead, "God, I hate my job."

Natasha looked up finally at her roommate, "It's not that bad Toris."

"How is your job hunt?"

Glancing down, she fondled with her fingers staring intently at the broken nails, "Nothing."

Toris groaned throwing his heavy bag at the floor, like he mocked him. Muttering quietly he crouched down in front of Natasha, she peered up through her thick lashes.

"You will not be a prostitute" Toris swore, he never broke her gaze, "Look, if you want to make Vinay happy go audition for the ballet studio."

"I hate dancing." Natasha wrinkled her nose in disgust, "They care so much about weight, and they are so nasty."

"But you are amazing at it." Toris sighed a small smile appearing on his face, "Look, I'll even walk you to all of your practices, to and from. I'll go all your performances that I can get away without paying."

Natasha grumbled flushing, she played with her hair, "Shut up, or I'll break your fingers."

Toris smiled sweetly nodding as he stood up; they both knew he won that argument. Natasha didn't like selling her body even if it was for her brother. But she didn't like dancing, but it was the better of two evils. Toris pattered around the apartment carefully taking out his grocers, pulling out several pans.

Natasha returned to staring at the coat.

"I have to return this. How do you wash it?"

"Hmm?" Toris peered over the table in the kitchen, he frowned, "Is that leather?"

Natasha nodded fingered the jacket, "Da."

Toris hummed thinking, "I might have to give it to Feliks. He'll be able to take care of it."

Groaning Natasha rocked on her heels, "Do we have to? You know how I feel about Feliks."

"Oh, he's not that bad" Toris chuckled as the pan sizzled and popped as he dabbed some lard in the hot pan, "He's very sweet."

"You only think that because he's your boyfriend."

Toris jumped flushing deeply he only buried himself into his work. Natasha grinned triumphantly flashing her pretty grin. Standing she wandered over to Toris smoothing out her skirt.

"Oh quit it." Toris groaned slapping down some older meat, "Yes, yes I know."

Chuckling she leant on the counter watching him work. There were times she wished Toris wasn't gay. When she had first come to live with him she had constantly though he was hitting on her, and she threatened him constantly. But then when she met Feliks she had realized that Toris was actually gay. Vanya probably knew, it explained why he seemed to naturally hate Toris. But, Toris would never try anything on Natasha so Toris could stay.

The whole flirting thing had ended also when Natasha realized that Toris was just nature overly sweet to everyone he met. Like a mother hen he took care of everyone he could.

"So hand it back tonight, or do you want to go over to Feliks' over the weekend?"

Natasha looked at the large pile of paper, she lifted an eyebrow, and "Can you manage it? That looks like a lot of homework."

"It's is not homework" Toris bubbled, "But, I can always make time for you or Feliks. So let me know."

"You know some times I really wish you weren't gay." Natasha commented, smiling, "You will work yourself to death. So what do you have to do?"

"Oh filing, writing a few reports. I will be visiting Alexander quiet often." Alexander was their type writer, Toris had named him bitterly say that the typewriter deserved a name considering how much attention it got from Toris.

"Tell Alexander to write his own reports." Natasha muttered bitterly, she wanted some attention. She had spent the entire day alone in the empty flat.

Toris chuckled shaking his head, "We'll go to Felix's tomorrow first thing in the morning, after that we can go try and get some food, I got a little extra money, and we can get you something nice or save it for something even better?"

"It's your money." Natasha commented trying to hide her excitement of getting something new, Toris should get something for himself, "You get something for yourself."

"I see that look. What do you want?" Toris mused chopping up beets quickly throwing them in a large pot.

Shaking her head Natasha refused. Walking over the cupboard and pulling out a large bowl and spoons setting them on the old worn table.

"How about, we visits Iryna?" Toris asked. Natasha' head snapped up she nearly burst some her sudden excitement.

Pausing she forced her happiness to hide, "We can if you insist."

Laughing Toris dumped the beets into the pot. Natasha grinned pulling out a large thing of bacon she set about cutting it apart enjoying the small talk about Toris' day.

True to Arthur's word, the little devil had not drank any more alcohol that evening. Instead, Alfred had half listened to a long conversation that involved a lot of crude language little threats and bribery before Arthur got bored of who every he was talking to then called up Port and they spent the entire night practically screaming sexual innuendos at each other. Honestly, it was one of the best entertainments, a prefect soap opera.

Alfred on the other hands, was trying to type up a report for his boss. He soon gave up made himself some tea, and bitterly drank it while typing down Arthur's flirtatious conversation with his girl-not really a-friend.

Like he said, most of what they said, really was the perfect soap opera stuff. Cheesy, suggestive- Alfred was writing a book with this stuff.

The early morning light filtered through the gray windows promising another cold day. Well, no one likes change, and apparently the weather here had an affinity for keeping the day's stone cold and the nights even colder.

Cracking his back Alfred blinked his blurry eyes. Peering up he spotted the long words typed, a melodrama.

Smirking Alfred shuffled over falling back onto his bed. Tired he had nothing to do, so do nothing.

Then his covers where ripped off. In a fit of rage Alfred flew up roaring in discomfort.

Suddenly shrieking as a bucket of ice water splashed across his face. Alfred stumbled off the bed cursing vividly, shivering in his boxers and shirt.

Arthur snorted laughing, "Get up idiot, we have work to do."

Well there was the one disadvantage of a sober Arthur, drunk Arthur would sleep for a long time. Sober Arthur never slept past 5:30 am, and by 7:00 he figured that was sufficient sleeping in time.

Much to Alfred's disapproval.

Groaning and numb awake Alfred blinked through bleary eyes, the world still spinning, and Arthur's voice echoing through his head like an empty cavern.

"Get up you git"

Alfred blinked slowly processing, those words weren't English.

Which meant they were another language. Which meant it was work related…. Which meant bosses and…. Forgotten papers, Arthur.

The piece slowly flied back together, the little men in is head sluggishly throwing the papers Alost in place.

"Oh for god's sakes." Arthur snapped disappearing into the kitchen, "I'll make us breakfast."

Arthur- kitchen.

KITCHEN

Leaping to his feet Alfred bulldozed his way into the kitchen. Body slamming Arthur down, Alfred squeezed the little guy shaking his sopping hair on Arthur's face.

"Alfred! Quite! Let go of me! You're making me wet-! _YOU GIT Let go!_"

"That's what you get for your stupid trick!" Alfred snickered, "But hey, don't cook man. I want to keep the insurance deposit."

"I'm not a bad cook."

"No, I'm a bad cook" Alfred grinned slowly inching his arms from around Arthur, "You my friend are the Worst."

Arthur tried to struggle, and Alfred had to dodge a few punches, but is point did get across.

Soon after breakfast (courtesy of Alfred) the two bustled back out into the streets as Andrey and Nikita Tolstoy. Arthur had his head own, frequently glancing into his little black book ad muttering under his breath. He led Alfred to the main center, then turned around seemly heading towards nowhere.

"Nikita where are you going?" Alfred called bored of wandering aimlessly.

"To a friend of a friend." Arthur snorted humorlessly, "I made some arrangements let's say."

"And I get to do the talking?" Alfred grinned, falling instep the Arthur.

He nodded, glancing down at the little book, "This person has quiet the name here. He's a well-known assassin for the mafia and government. Does all their dirty work in return for his freedom from jail. A war criminal, to the Soviet state."

Arthur lowered his voice, "He's got quiet the record, and a perfect one too. Never misses a shot. They call him the Kotka. Finish for eagle. However, he has made multiple attempts to escape to the west. He had the rest of his family there and frequently tried to get in touch with them."

"So a pass to the west for the papers."

"No, he knows who does the best forgeries, we need him mostly to get to his friend."

Alfred snorted as they stepped on the train falling deathly silent. Glaring at the other passengers through their black coats and worn faces.

The woman might have been beautiful in Russia, but the men always looked ready to murder someone, Alfred thought struggling to fit in this a nasty frown on his face. He just never could frown for a long time, it just slipped away like butter to a wide grin.

They sat on the train silently communicating with slight glancing's and head jerks. Finally Arthur stood up and led them off into the street.

It had begun to snow, and the little houses where brightly coloured, warm yellows and baby blues. Old fashioned and tiny they sat jovially in stark contrast to the dandy grey blocks that where just two streets away. This area was a richer area, and Alfred felt that had more to do with the assassin being under surveillance than him actually being rich.

The street was quiet and empty, everyone enjoying the early morning Saturday before they went off to work.

Arthur turned up towards a robin blue house. The cottage was surrounded by dense branches, they chimney piping away like the house itself was chugging and breathing.

The walked up onto a white porch knocking at the dark wooden door.

The door opened slowly.

"Yes?" a man asked. He was short, shorter than Arthur. His accent was thick, like he wasn't Russian. His eyes where dark brown but his hair fair.

He opened the door letting the two men into the entrance.

Glancing up, Alfred could see another man, a thin gaunt looking one covering in thick sweater.

"Sorry Eduard. Yes gentlemen?" the first man asked.

"Hello, I am Mr. Andrey, and this is my brother Nikita." Alfred began, "We would like to discuss our situation with you."

The man shook his head, "No can do. Good day gentlemen."

He opened the door to emphasise his point.

"No you see Mr.…"

"Mr. Väinämöinen." Arthur prompted.

"Mr. Väinämöinen," Alfred smiled, "We are merely good for an acquaintance of your, we are in need of some services."

"No." Mr. Väinämöinen snapped, gesturing again to the door, the wind slipping into the warm house.

They stood rooted to the spot each waiting for the other to give in. Alfred felt the cold wind clamber up the back of his coat as the door remained wide open.

"Well then, we will go Andrey." Arthur said suddenly tugging gently on Alfred's coat, "I will have to explain to Anderson the situation."

Suddenly the door slammed closed.

"Anderson Køhler?" Mr. Väinämöinen murmured, he breathed deeply his eyes narrowing, "Come on in, sorry Eduard I'll be with you in a second."

Despite the phrase, Eduard did not leave, Alfred choice to ignore it, not thinking it important.

"We need some documents." Alfred stated bluntly, "I heard you have some family outside of the USSR, I might be able to arrange a phone call, with no intelligent on the other end."

Mr. Väinämöinen nodded slowly, his eyes flickering to the floor in a shockingly submissive motion. Alfred took advantage of the weakness.

"I can't image what it must be like away from your family." Alfred bragged, "And the joy of hearing them again? Surely this is worth that."

"I don't do business here sirs." Mr. Väinämöinen snapped jerking his head sharply up to the tall man dominating the warmth of the kitchen, "I don't want to hear how you got the information from Anderson, but please relay my utter disgust and betrayal that he would tell _you_ where my home is."

Arthur smiled chuckling, "Of course."

"The man you are looking for goes by the name of Feliks. He lives just outside the city on a ranch. It is 3 miles east, on the northern side." He nodded, "He should be home today."

"Alright thank you." Alfred nodded turning to leave, thank god that was over with.

The man barked out sharply in a foreign langue, Alfred was too startled to place it be turned around anyways

"My call." He finally blabbering reverting back to Russian.

"We will arrange it." Arthur interrupted, "I will get back to you on that."

Alfred nodded pushing Arthur out in front of him, he would know how to deal with the name, and Alfred would simply tie everything together.


End file.
